


heart's a mess

by reptilezoo



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Fluff, M/M, ryuji is a disaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 13:36:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10992003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reptilezoo/pseuds/reptilezoo
Summary: spoiler free! short entirely plotless fluff drafted up while i'm trying to get back into the hang of writing on the regular. messy gay teenage feelings get spilled out one night at leblanc. i mostly just wanted to get some pegoryu out of my system ¯\_(´∀`*)_/¯





	heart's a mess

To be blunt, Akira had known Ryuji wasn’t straight as soon as they had properly become friends. 

Oh, he talked about girls a lot, in that typical high school boy way, but there was something more there, too. It was hard for Akira to put into words exactly, but he was sure of it all the same. 

He didn’t even think to ask Ann about it - it simply seemed clear to Akira that Ryuji had feelings for him. The way he talked to Akira, that open and tender trust...there was a certain tenderness and vulnerability his friend showed him that he was certain a straight boy would never let him see.

All those long hot humid summer days where Ryuji unceremoniously crashed into Leblanc to spend the day, the 2AM texts inviting himself over - each time, Akira patiently waited for it, believing in earnest today would be the day that confession came.

Most times they hung out together, he half expected Ryuji to finally spill his guts. It was hard to think about sometimes. As much as he suspected it, and as much as he’d mulled it over, Akira had never quite been able to discern for certain if he could reciprocate it. Sometimes it was so hard to parse how he felt about other people. 

He loved Ryuji, he knew that. He loved Ryuji as much as he could love a person. But the place in his heart where Ryuji lived was shared with so many others. He felt the same swell of affection with Yusuke, with Makoto - with every other kid he’d saved, everyone else he’d taken by the hand and pulled from the jaws of beasts.

And for as much as he tried, Akira didn’t know how to tell apart guard-dog love and what he saw in Ryuji’s face whenever that boy was by his side.

So that cool September evening, after they’d run themselves ragged at the gym and dragged themselves back to Yongen-jaya, sweaty despite showering and buzzing with exhausted adrenaline, all the while Akira was wondering with a pit in his stomach if today would be the day. 

-

“Dude, I am so freaking sore. Like, to the bone. I think trying to keep up with you is going to kill me,” Ryuji wheezed. He clambered up into a chair at the Leblanc counter and slumped over in a mock faint. The drama of it all. Akira raised an eyebrow at him, and just as he opened the front door to turn the sign around and lock up Morgana darted in.

“That’s the point of working out with others, Ryuji,” he meowed bluntly as he weaved around Akira’s ankles. “Motivating each other.” Ryuji grunted and kicked the counter. 

“Didn’t ask, cat.” 

Akira shook his head, not even slightly trying to hide a smile, and trotted past them to head upstairs and change into something to sleep in. 

Despite insisting that he was totally wiped and on the verge of passing out, for real, man, Ryuji swiftly parked himself in front of the TV and started shuffling through the small stack of overdue rented movies piled by the CRT. He’d seen all of them before, but neither of them ever quite tired of them, and Akira had simply conveniently forgotten to ever return them. He’d deal with the late fees eventually, but in the meantime they made for nice background noise when Ryuji inevitably decided he was going to spend the evening at Leblanc.

Akira fell bonelessly back onto the bed. The ache from his burning muscles was starting to set in hard - the only reason he’d kept from complaining about it was so he could razz Ryuji about being more sore than him. Morgana hopped up next to him, stepped deliberately and slowly onto his chest. He glanced down and squinted at the cat without saying anything. Morgana flicked an ear and settled down nonchalantly, like he had just happened to sit there by coincidence.

He listened to Ryuji mutter to himself, pry open the flap on the DVD player - it always stuck a bit - and click a disk into place. The player whirred and the television buzzed to life unpleasantly, and without looking, from the opening notes Akira recognized the X-Folders theme.

“Which season?” 

“The first one, obviously.” Ryuji said.

“Skip to the episode with the one who eats people’s livers,” Akira said, and hefted himself back up into a sitting position. The cat let out a strangled noise as he tumbled off onto the floor. “I haven’t seen that one in a while.”

“Really? Because I thought that you’d have watched it whenever you wanted. Given that you, uh, stole these from the movie store,” Morgana piped up. Akira swatted lightly at him. 

“You complain when I put on X-Folders. Ryuji doesn’t.” Ryuji silently pumped his fist in the air. Morgana tsked and shook himself off.

“Fine. If you’re going to watch gross-out TV all night I’m sleeping downstairs,” he huffed, and padded haughtily down the stairs.

“I think you hurt his feelings, man,” Ryuji laughed. Akira shrugged noncommittally and got up to hit the light switch.

“I’ll buy him an apology treat tomorrow. Besides, we can stay up without him nagging us.” The toothy, beaming grin that spread across Ryuji’s face made something in Akira’s chest swell.

It took a bit of a struggle to unfold the futon - he loved the attic, but every bit of his furniture had aged badly. At length between the two of them they managed to wrestle it into a comfortable spot in front of the TV. Ryuji rolled onto it and groaned with contentment. “This thing rules. I gotta, like…sell my bed, get myself one of these. Can I buy it off you?”

Akira, dragging the comforter off his bed, said nothing. He flipped it up to unfold it in midair, and, ignoring the immediate yelp of complaint entirely, drifted it down on top of Ryuji and elbow dropped onto the futon next to him.

After some amount of playful shoving and threatening to knock one another off the futon, they settled down in front of the old TV in the same way as always - Akira propped on his elbows with the blanket supporting him, and Ryuji sitting upright on the edge of the mattress, legs crossed. Akira could only bring himself to half pay attention to the show. He had seen it enough times and knew the formula of the episodes the same as Ryuji, but somehow Akira didn’t have the same interest in watching things on repeat that he did. Ryuji hunched over, focused and following the plot like it was his first time seeing this episode. 

It wasn’t, and Akira knew it wasn’t. He was like this with comics, too, and movies sometimes - any of his favorite things seemed to have endless replay value. And still...it seemed like he might have been trying to avoid Akira’s eyes. That nagging little feeling, a sense more worry than anticipation, formed a pit in Akira’s stomach again. He tried to shake it off and turned his attention back to the TV.

Akira was quiet by nature. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to. Ryuji mostly filled the silence in the space between them whenever they were together, and he quickly started a running commentary on the X-Folders episodes, one after the other. He was exaggerated and whined and cringed at scenes Akira knew weren’t really that big of a deal, but being a ham was in his nature. It tended to grate on most people - most of their friends too, for that matter - but Akira had always found something endearing about him being a one-man peanut gallery.

The night wore on, and without any real discussion needed it slowly progressed into a series marathon instead of just a few episodes of background noise. They skipped a handful of episodes after mutual agreement that they were too dull to bother, and at some point - Akira hadn’t bothered to check the time, but it had to have dragged well into the A.M. - the disk ran out, and the credits rolled back to the DVD menu.

Ryuji didn’t move to switch the disks. He didn’t look back at Akira either. He just sat there, seemingly zoned out. Akira turned to him, and was about to say something, or get up to get the CD case himself, but Ryuji’s expression caught him off guard. Ryuji was still looking hard at the monitor, staring as intently at the screen as if X-Folders was still playing. It was hard to read his face clearly from where Akira was lying, but even in the dim light he could see how his jaw was set, how his eyebrows knitted together in hard thought.

Akira was taken by a sudden awareness that this felt like something significant, that he felt something about this was something he wanted - needed - to hold on to. Here and now, looking at Ryuji, the blue CRT glow cast over his face, it felt like something strong. The time he spent with his friends at night always felt more meaningful in an indescribeable way, but this was...more. Akira’s heart fluttered so gently he almost missed it. He knew plainly what Ryuji was about to say, that the months of knowing what Ryuji couldn’t seem to understand himself were about to come to a head. He wanted to touch his arm, to comfort him, to do anything to ease the emotions that Akira knew were about to erupt, but if he moved, if he breathed, it would be over. This was the last moment before Ryuji took the leap.

Ryuji turned his head. He didn’t look at Akira. His gaze fixed on the floor, a few inches to the right of Akira’s head. He was avoiding eye contact with all his might.

“Akira.” The flutter in Akira’s chest stopped. His heart stopped too. “I’ve been. Thinking about a lot of stuff.” Ryuji kept pausing, stopping and starting like every word took physical effort. It probably did.

“I know I’ve said this kind of thing before, but, like...I feel better when I’m with you. Like my place is by your side. You make me feel better about...what I am. Who I am.” Ryuji paused again and licked his lips.

“I don’t think I could have gotten through the shit we have with anyone else, and I don’t…” His shoulders were trembling, and at last he turned to face Akira properly. “I’m sorry I’m stupid and, um, I’m sorry I don’t...know how to say this. I don’t know what I’m doing here. But, like. I know this one thing. I’m certain.” Akira met his gaze evenly and said nothing. He watched Ryuji gather himself for this one last push.

“The way I feel about you isn’t - it’s not how I feel about anyone else. I don’t. Uh. I don’t know if I ever have before.” His eyes were wet, and the words started to spill out faster than Ryuji could keep up with. “I - I’ve had some, some really good friends, like the guys on track, and people I’ve dated, you know, but - nobody like this. Before you there wasn’t - there wasn’t anybody who _saw_ me like you do.” 

Ryuji opened his mouth again, and that was when Akira pushed himself up off his elbows and kissed him.

Ryuji turned to stone, and for a single beat he didn’t seem to know what was happening. Then his mouth softened, and even as Ryuji leaned down to return the kiss Akira felt the tears rolling down his face. He hadn’t seen it in the low light, but as Ryuji kissed back gracelessly the flush in his cheeks radiated heat.

Ryuji kissed all nervous and juvenile, just pressing his lips against Akira’s, pushing their faces together and crying on him. This was it. The dam was bursting at last. He moved delicately, slow as if he was scared they could both shatter with a touch, and brought his hands to Akira’s face. Akira fought the urge to kiss him back hard, to click their teeth ungracefully and grab him by the shoulders because now, Akira knew what he was feeling. As soon as he’d kissed him, he knew. It was like Ryuji said - it was different than anyone else. Akira loved him, in the hot, angry way that he loved the other Phantom Thieves, that white hot anger of a survivor protecting another, but it was more too.

He knew, really, that it couldn’t have been more than a minute or two before they parted, but time stretched. He closed his eyes and tried to take it into his mind, to freeze these seconds forever. Ryuji, flushed and teary, fingertips rested on his jawline as delicately as if he might shatter. His soft mouth, lips nervously chewed. This, too, was a moment he had to hold on to. Ryuji was something he had to hold on to.

Akira was the one to tilt away and pull back, at last. He shifted his weight and sat up properly, and cupped Ryuji’s face in his hands. The boy was a mess. His face was wet and his eyes were red, even in the dim TV glow. His mouth hung almost agape, lips parted in a daze. For a moment, they just looked at one another, Akira tenderly stroking his face with one thumb, trying to soothe him.

Ryuji’s face split into a grin, desperate relief as much as joy. He grabbed Akira by the shoulders and pulled him forward, pushing his head down into Akira’s chest to hide his face. Akira could feel a wet spot start to spread on his shirt, and he gingerly looped his arms around Ryuji’s trembling shoulders. The sobs started to alternate into breathless laughter. 

“I’m - I’m so happy. Oh my god. Oh my god,” he panted, talking into Akira’s collarbone. His grip went slack, and Ryuji leaned into him. Akira stroked the back of his head, and pressed his face down into Ryuji’s bleach-fried hair. He smelled like the gym’s cheap champoo. He fit into Akira’s arms perfectly.

Akira kissed his hair, and Ryuji pulled back out of his arms. He wiped his puffy eyes with the back of his hand, with his palms out, like a child. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Don’t look, man. I’m a mess.” He turned his face down away from Akira, but Akira could still see the smile didn’t even slightly slip from his face. He waited patiently for Ryuji to gather himself, combing his fingers through the same locks of Ryuji’s hair over and over.

This boy. This boy who could never keep his voice down, who couldn’t shut up if he tried, who cried when he was kissed. Akira felt like his heart was going to burst.

Gently, he took Ryuji by the jaw and tilted his head back up to meet Akira’s eyes. Akira tilted his head and smiled tenderly.

“You’re my mess, then.”


End file.
